Moist Remembers
by MS-Manuscript
Summary: Moist remembers the first time he met Billy. Not the day in the park that doesn’t count. He thought Billy was Dr. Horrible, but he was terribly mistaken. Now in these final moments he looks back on the good times, and the bad.
1. Billy

Characters belong to Joss Whedon, Jed Whedon, Zack Whedon, and Maurissa Tancharoen. Not me. Story line does though

* * *

Moist remembers the first time he met Billy. Not the day in the park, that doesn't count. No, he means _really_ met Billy. It was a few days after the hub-bubb in the park, after Moist had called the number he had taken from the flier. He had knocked on the address he had been given, a few suitcases behind him full of clothes. They had taken him forever to get up the stairs, what with the handles slipping from his always wet fingers. But he had gotten there with his things popping out only once after falling. With the elevator broken and the stairs being the only means of getting up and down life remained interesting with clammy hands. Clearly Billy wasn't able to afford any of the higher-up apartments in L.A. But this'll do.

He had knocked on the door, his belongings behind him, out of breath. The blond opened the door, shining smile in place. It was good to see that smile. For some reason Billy always looked better with a smile on. He was quickly ushered in, the other man bringing in his packs for him. It seemed like a natural thing for Billy to do. It wasn't an "Oh, right, you can't hold anything" kind of help, but a "Hey! Guest!" kind of help. Kind of nice. Really nice, actually.

Billy talked a mile a minute. Jabbering on and on about the crazy neighbors, how no matter what don't talk to them because they'd only pry and pry and pry until they got you to admit that you pulled the wings off of a dead fly when you were five and they'd look down on you and called you scum. It was kind of odd. Almost like they knew you were evil or something.

"And over here is the bathroom. There are no windows, so we have to turn on the fan during our showers. And you can only take one between three and four in the afternoon, or the water turns cold on you before you finish. Oh! And don't try to open the slider door on the left, it got super-glued or something there by the last person that had this place, so it won't budge. And I can't afford to have it replaced if we break it, so yeah, just leave it. And over here is your…"

The tour went on for hours, Moist seeing almost everything that Billy had to offer his new room-mate and henchman. Almost. He was shown his room, the hall, the hall closet, the little drawer with the soap in it, the un-used kitchen (really, there was no food there to speak of. Just half-finished cups of frozen yogurt in the freezer, and some thick gloppy stuff in jars with weird labels on them in the fridge. He was told not to touch them, they were experiments that were on hold.), the front room, the window, the balcony that wasn't a balcony, the make-shift lab, and Billy's computer. Which was superbly off limits, don't touch, for any reason, not even to check the weather.

For some reason, that didn't bother Moist either. It didn't strike him as the "You're wet, please, don't touch anything electronic" kind of don't touch, but the "Please, this is mine, it matters most to me, don't touch it or I'll freak" kind of don't touch. After all, he was shown how to work the cable (that was stolen) and the other electronics in the apartment. But he hadn't been shown everything, and it bothered him. Billy showed him the precious computer… but not his room. Where did Billy sleep? He had only seen one room, had only seen room for one person… for him. It was his room. So, where did Billy sleep? In the lab? There was a computer chair there, that was about it.

The phone had rung, and in the "middle" (hopefully the end, Moist was less than interested in the leaky faucet in the janitor's room that you could hear at night if you were in the corner by the fridge [what was Billy doing in the corner by the fridge in the middle of the night?]) and Billy left to answer it, leaving Moist to his own devices. After about five minutes, he went to go explore on his own.

His room was so empty. There was a bed, a window, some nice curtains that matched the faint yellow walls… but nothing else. It didn't even have the odd patches on the wall from where something was blocking the sun from fading the color. It looked like nothing had been in it for a long time. Sweeping his damp fingers across the top of the dresser, he came up with a heavy layer of dust. Like Billy forgot to do something before his new roomie came by. That only made him more confused. It was like no one had been in this room for months. Where did Billy stay?

"Hey! Sorry about that, where was I?" Billy found him, the short-haired man nervously wiping his hands on his jeans before shrugging out of his open-zippered jacket a bit. It wasn't that warm. "Right. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one. Where do you stay?"

"Huh?"

"This room hasn't been touched in ages. Where do you stay?"

"Oh! Um-er, you know, I uh-uh." Billy did a strange squinty double blink twitch thing. Moist lifted an eyebrow and watched as he stumbled over words and shifted on his feet. It was just a question.

"Dude. It's just a question."

"Y-yeah. Um. I uh. Isleepinthelab."

"The what?"

"The uh. The lab."

"You sleep in the living room?"

"NO! I sleep in the lab. There's a chair in there."

"Yeah, the rolling chai- in there?"

"Y-yeah." Bighting his lip, Billy looked out the window. The sun was high, it was almost noon. Swallowing, he jerked his head for his new friend to follow, and scurried out of the room. Moist did as he was bid. Billy came to a small blank space between two bookshelves. The shelf on the right was against the wall, in the corner. The one on the left matched the wall, making the hallway about a foot and a half deeper. And it left a man-sized blank spot. Happened, someone didn't measure right or something. Unless Billy pointed it out Moist would never have noticed. It was a little odd, Billy coming to a stop in front of it and jerking his head to it.

"I, uh. I sleep in here."

"In the gap between the bookshelves?"

"NO! Behind the gap between the bookshelves."

"You've lost me." With a sigh Billy took his hands out of his back pockets, rubbed his arms, then pulled at the spine of one of the books. Five spines came along with it, a hidden panel. He put his hand inside, there was some kind of lightshow, and the wood faded from view. There was an inset nook from the rest of the wall, and on it was a metal wheel like on a submarine door or something. Billy spun it around, and the nook slid to the side with a bit of help from the villain. Billy stepped inside, and Moist joined him. There wasn't much in it. But it explained why everything felt so crowded inside the apartment. There was more room in the lab then there was in the kitchen.

Half-finished ray-guns lay around the various tables, there was a white board or two with weird scribbled math all over them. But the thing that drew Moist's eye was the huge armchair.

"So, uh. I sleep in here. In that." Billy nodded to the chair. "I was working on an engorgement ray, you know, try and get more gold for my silencing beam. You know, to try and shut Hammer up so I didn't have to listen to him and stuff. But it didn't work on the gold. So I tried it on something that wasn't metal, and it worked. So, yeah. It's pretty comfy, so I sleep in that. There's a ton of room."

"Uh-huh."

Moist will never forget his first time meeting Billy. He wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before.


	2. Dr Horrible

Moist remembers the first time he met Dr. Horrible. He thought Billy was Dr. Horrible, but he was terribly mistaken. He'd been living with Billy for a year now, going with him on heists and such. He wasn't very good at it, kept dropping the rayguns and the money bags and the heaven knew what. But he tried. And when they came home either with arms full of treasure or defeated bruises, Billy would always clap him warmly on the shoulder and tell him good job. Never with sarcasm, never with hate. There was always something genuine about Billy. And he never seemed to care that Most was… well… wet.

Moist would get his mail, Billy would touch his shoulder, Moist would be fighting with a jar but Billy'd wait until he asked before opening it for him… the man never shied away from his henchman friend. In costume, out of costume, there was never a reason to suspect that Dr. Horrible and Billy were two different people. Not until Moist lost his job.

It was stupid really. His supervisor knew better than to give him fragile stuff. He'd been at the candle shop for almost six months, everyone knew not to give him the jar candles unless they had a funky shape he could hold. But this guy, the new supervisor, just didn't seem to get it. Or he didn't like Moist, take your pick. Moist likes to think it's the last one, because the guy was a real douche bag. Everyone got how Moist worked, the dude was told how to treat him, what he could and could not do. And the guy gave Moist everything he could not do.

It wasn't like how Billy did it either. Billy would let Moist work it out, would let him do things others wouldn't let him do, would prompt him to try new things. This guy just told Moist to do stuff and expected magic. Billy was the magical one, the brain, the guy that could make the impossible happen. Not Moist. Moist didn't want to be, but he couldn't help but draw that analogy between what his higher-up expected and what Moist couldn't do.

After enough broken jar candles, Moist was fired. But not all was bad. He found a girl friend down at the White Flag. He was aiming for Bait, but wound up with DayGlow. He wasn't sure why, but the twins Bait and Switch always found a way to slip through his fingers.

No pun intended.

But DayGlow was a nice gal. She was bright, and warm, and he liked jogging with her in the early mornings when the fog was still thick. He could follow her easily. But she had high tastes. And spent his unemployment checks like mad. Because she didn't know he didn't have a job. She couldn't know, or she'd drop him like a rock. And that was the only thing Moist was able to hold onto.

Billy didn't have a job either. He was a full-time mad scientist evil genius kind of guy. And he was shy as all get out. He had told Moist one time that he had done a stint as a grocery store cashier. He quit after one day because of the kids that screamed for sweets and the mothers that had coupon after expired coupon and the noise and the mob of people sent him into a panic attack.

Moist could see that happening. Moist wouldn't mind seeing that happen, as it kind of made a funny image in his head. The great Dr. Horrible, goggles over his eyes and gum in his hair being shouted at by the mother of the child that put the gum there, telling him to hurry up she was late, before he dropped a can of tomato paste on his white booted toe and curling up in a ball freaking out. Moist was sure that it was an image Captain Hammer would like to see too, so he quickly wiped it from his mind.

Their heists hadn't been the greatest. And that's where Billy's money came from. He rode the bus, he used a coin laundry, he lived almost solely off of frozen yogurt because he couldn't cook for beans… he had tried to cook beans once, Moist unhooked the stove from the gas after that fiasco. Funny, how a chemist with a PhD in biomedical engineering and a PhD in mechanical engineering couldn't figure out that he had to open the can before sticking on the stove. Huh, who knew.

But there was no money to be had. Billy tried his best, getting what he could into his pockets before Hammer came in and smacked him around, putting the money bags back where they belonged. Moist was rather happy that he was only a henchman at times; his union made it so that even Capt. Hammer was afraid to hit him. But poor Billy, taking all the heat from the human train. No, there was very little money to be had in the Horrible apartment.

So when Moist missed his half of the rent one month, he almost freaked. The day had come and gone, and he would never have known it if it wasn't on the calendar; Billy never said a word about it. Moist apologize, said he's pay the rent next month, that it totally skipped his mind. Billy sat at the kitchen table, munching on his bran flakes, a smile and shrug of "it's fine, don't freak."

But the next month came. Moist noticed that the fridge was empty; he'd been eating out with DG almost every night, leaving Billy to his own devices. There was no food in the house. No soy milk which Billy coveted, no normal milk that Moist drank, no bran flakes, nothing. Moist opened the kitchen one morning to find everything barren. Where had it all gone? Billy opened the door with a grocery bag, catching a glimpse of Moist and instantly keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Hey Moist! You're up early."

"Yeah, yeah guess I am. Hey Billy?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"Where is all the food?"

"Right here!"

In one canvas shopping bag. Billy was a green-friendly evil scientist apparently. Billy pulled out half a dozen eggs, a small uncut loaf of wheat bread, a single serving of soy milk, and a tub of fake margarine. Not even the real margarine. Wow. Moist hooked the gas back up and made breakfast, giving Billy toast and himself the eggs. There was no food in the house, Billy was taking care of it one day at a time. The second month's rent came and went, and Billy didn't say a thing.

Moist came home one night, broken hearted though he wasn't sure why. He didn't like DayGlow all that much. True, it was the first girl that he had spent more than just a few hours with, three months to be exact, but it wasn't like he liked her or anything. So why did her breaking up with him hurt so much? Was he that desperate? There was always Bait, he had to find a way to get with Bait. Opening the door, the internal monologue raging on in his skull, Moist found the apartment dark as normal. But there was something different; it was cold. It was June, why was it cold? True, he was always cold; he was always wet. But this was different. Glancing around he found a silhouette by the window. Standing, waiting for him, was Billy in full Doctor attire.

"Hey Doc, what's-"

"**Three months.**" That was a new voice. It wasn't the quivering nervous friendly voice of Billy. This was sure, this was intimidating, this was something with confidence. This was Dr. Horrible. Moist instantly knew there was something wrong. The figure move towards him, white leather covered fingers grabbing his damp chin.

"**Three months rent. You don't have a job, but you blow your money on a chick. Three months. You know that Billy's paid all three months? You're useless Moist. You're about as helpful as a puddle. You can't even hold a money bag right. Now you owe us three months rent.**"

His face was let go of, and Moist collapsed into a… well… puddle. There is no other way to explain it. Quaking on the floor by the door he watched as the shape of Dr. Horrible turned without another thought to him and entered the dark lab. Dr. Horrible was not a villain to be afraid of, he had no strength to him, he couldn't even leave a bruise if he punched you. But in those five seconds that he was confronted by Dr Horrible, Moist was afraid. He was horrified.

Dr. Horrible was not a villain to mess around with. There was a threat in that voice, a huge threat. One that scared Moist poop-less. Dr. Horrible was not Billy.

The next day Moist avoided Billy, much to the man's confusion and concern. Moist went job hunting, and was determined not to come home until he got one. It worked. He was going to be a bagger for the grocery store. He had to wear gloves, but that was fine, he could do it. It was money. For the next month, Moist kept a low profile, trying his hardest not to come into contact with Billy or Doc until he had something to show for it. It almost didn't work. He had to time it just right, and laundry days were the best for him to slip in and out of the apartment un-noticed.

Finally rent-day came, big and red-lettered on the calendar. And Moist beat Billy to the punch. Billy went down to the office to pay his rent, arms full of coins and half-shredded dollar bills. The landlady looked up, told him rent was taken care of for the next three months, and dismissed him without even a good bye.

Moist surprised Billy that night with a gift. A kind of peace offering. It was a blue lightning disk thing. That's when he told Billy about his Dr. Horrible encounter. That had to have been the most confusing conversation of his life.

Moist will never forget his first time meeting Dr. Horrible. He hoped never to meet him again.


	3. TLC

Moist remembers the first time he had to patch Billy up. It was Billy, not Dr. Horrible. Dr. Horrible didn't feel pain; he let Billy do that for him. But Moist didn't know of Dr. Horrible at that point; Moist was blissfully unaware that Dr. Horrible and Billy were two (really four) different people. Moist only knew of Billy dressed as Dr. Horrible. And now that he thought about it, he wished it had stayed that way.

It was their first time out on a heist. It wasn't at a bank, or at some kind of lab to get some weird named chemical for the acid grout, or casings for the flash grenades, or even fog-juice for the disappear things Billy had tried once. Moist later learned that they were never going to try them again, and it caused some poor kid to have an asthma attack and Billy wasn't able to sleep for weeks when he found out about it. Billy was nice like that.

No, their first ever heist was at a drug store. Of all places, of all things, Billy chose to hold up a drug store. And for their latest shipment of aspirin. Moist was beyond confused. Even more so when the clerk handed him the case of said aspirin, and Billy calmly asked the freaked out teen if ketoprofen would work better for long term pain or sudden jolts. Confused, the kid asked where it hurt. Billy didn't know, just wondered which would be better for what. Moist was holding a box that was quickly turning to mush, and cleared his throat to catch his friend's attention. With a start and a twitch of fright, Dr. Horrible straightened up and announce loudly that he was going to leave now. That's when the ceiling fell on his head. That's when the annoying voice of Captain Hammer laughed at the plaster covered villain.

That's when Moist understood why Billy chose this place and this time. It was a kind of a test. Made sense, after all he was applying to be a henchman. _His_ henchman. Dr. Horrible's henchman. Whatever, it all worked in Moist's head anyway. Dr. Horrible's nemesis was Captain Hammer, so what better way to make sure that this is really what Moist wants to do than to have him meet the "good guy" himself? Moist held the boxes of pain-killers, sure they were going to need them, and watched as the two supers traded insults. Billy complained about getting dust in his eyes, Hammer snided that that was what the goggles were for. Billy commented that they were for welding, not for keeping dust out of your eyes, that's what safety goggles were for. Hammer snarked that he should be wearing safety goggles because-

Ouch, that had to hurt. Hammer didn't finish his sentence with words. He didn't need too. Instead his right fist went into Billy's nose. Billy went flying into a counter. Moist dropped the box and went to help his boss out and to his feet. He didn't get a chance too. A hand as big as his head grabbed the back of his shirt and threw him across the room.

"Don' dutch him!" He could hear Billy crunch out of the display, try and defend him, trying to protect his friend. Moist couldn't move. He didn't know what he had hit, but he couldn't see, he couldn't move. But he could hear. He heard everything. Heard all the insults, all the sickening thumps of flesh on flesh as Hammer knocked Billy senseless, the screams of pain and the calls of agony. All of them were his friend's. Slowly his vision came back, only to have a very bruised face land in his lap.

"_**Really, you're useless.**_" Hammer gloated. Billy glanced up at him, apologetically, eyes almost swollen shut, goggles falling into his bluegrays. That hurt more than anything Hammer had done to him. The look from Billy, the one that struck a nerve deeper than Moist ever thought possible. Moist picked up Billy's head, putting it down on the floor as he stood. Hammer was gloating to the clerks, who were all doe-eyed and oblivious to how overkill it was. Calmly walking over to a chair at the cosmetics counter, Moist picked it up. It had a great texture, so he could grip it without fear of it going away from him.

"Hey, douche bag." Captain Hammer turned around; Moist noted that he had to remember to laugh at that later. "Bang this." He noted that he had to remember to laugh at that too. Then he chucked the chair.

Which bounced off the hero's chest like he had thrown a plushie. Moist doesn't remember much after that. But he does remember waking up with barley a scratch. Which was a little odd. How had he passed out? Eh, whatever. But he was in an alley. And Billy was next to him, out cold. Poor guy's face looked like it was on the wrong side of a bee hive. Getting him home was hard. Doc was light, very very light. Happened to a vegetarian that didn't each much. (Though he was oh-so-toned.) No, what made it hard was bringing Doc around. He couldn't carry Billy, he'd drop him! And that was the last thing his boss needed. So he tried to rouse him, get him to open his eyes, get him to take some of his weight.

So they limped home, one arm around Moist's neck, Billy's other arm around his ribs. Moist had his other hand supporting his friend's elbow. They moved slowly, having to pause now and again for Billy to gasp in some air and spit out rust colored something or other. Moist didn't want to know what it was. Not really. He'd probably have to find out eventually, as the rib thing didn't sound like fun. But right now, he didn't want to deal with it. Up the stairs (Looking back on that, the elevator never worked in all those years in that dump) and into the lab. It was the brightest place. There was nothing in it for the light to be sucked into. Into the chair his friend went, nodding off slightly.

Moist went to work, cleaning the cuts, the bruises, the massive amount of red that poured from a horribly broken nose. All the while trying to keep Billy awake. The gloves came off first, Billy grunting in pain with each careful tug. His hand had been stepped on by the steel-toed boots of the jerkwad that had done this to them. Free of the white gauntlet, Moist could see the bluish purple that indicated broken bones. He couldn't fix that, but he could keep it from hurting too much for the time being.

So the hand had a lotion of something Doc had made slathered on it, wrapped in gauze. His other hand was fine, but the glove had to come off anyway. The smock was removed, carefully, as every movement made Billy cry out in pain. Not even a month. Moist had been living here not even a month and he was freaked out. Taking care of Billy like this, what had his friend done when he had lived alone?! The smock off, the tight fighting shirt had to be cut off (Moist owed him a new one later) because of his shoulder. It was swollen to the size of a pineapple, and about the same color as an eggplant. He was not going to be using his left side much. Wrapped and bandaged as best as could be expected, Moist wished he knew how to put a dislocated shoulder back into place. A make-shift sling, and it was onto the rest of his buddy.

The deep mark around Doc's neck suggested that he had been chocked. The thought of those massive paws crushing the life out of his companion sickened Moist. But there was nothing he could do about it now. It too was wrapped, as well as his discolored chest. His face was special; busted lip, black eye, broken nose, a missing tooth, a golf ball sized lump just under the hairline… just more wrappings to keep pressure. There was nothing they could do right now about it. Neither could afford a hospital, and the doctor's office didn't open until six. Billy had made a comment some weeks later about a doctor needing a doctor. But he was a medical engineer. Sure, he had two PhD's by age twenty two, but the sight of blood made him pass out in his high school bio lab.

So the two stayed up all night. They sat, and talked. Or, as best as they could. Moist found a small lump on the back of his head. With a bit of ice he was fine, it wouldn't bother him any. His wet scalp made the fist slip when it hit him, only making him pass out from shock rather than any actual pain. If only Billy was as lucky.

"Thanks Doc." He had to keep Billy awake. It sounded so clichéd, so false… keeping someone with a concussion from falling asleep. It wasn't always necessary, unless there were signs to suggest trouble most of the time they were fine. Not always, but most of the time. But Moist only knew what he had seen in the movies. And you never let someone with a knock on the head sleep without real and thorough medical attention. That and he wanted to reassure himself that Billy wasn't mad at him.

"For what?" Billy's voice sounded horrible. Scratchy, from having his throat almost crushed by the Neanderthal. And tired, so very very tired.

"You stood up for me back there."

"Yeah? You threw a chair at him."

"I'm protected, I have a union. You have nothing. Look what he did to you! You shouldn't have stood up for me like that."

"You're my friend Moist."

That was all Billy had to say. The conversation turned to different things throughout the night. Morning came, and Moist helped Doc onto a bus and into help. Four fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, three cracked metacarpals, a slight concussion, broken nose, and the order of limited talking and off your feet for a few weeks. They had gotten mugged according to the medical file; wallets stolen so they didn't have any I.D., and only the money they could scrounge from their apartment, nowhere near enough for the hospital. No questions asked. But Moist gained a bit of pride that day. Billy was his friend, and he was Billy's friend. They'd watch after each other.

Moist will never forget his first time patching Billy up. He only wished he could do it now.


	4. Cold

Moist remembers the first time he found Billy by the fridge in the middle of the night. He had always wondered about it, recalling the time that Billy had told him about the janitor's faucet that you could hear. It had been a strange thing to bring up at the time, and to this day Moist still doesn't get why Doc had brought it up. But he does know that it's true. You can hear the janitor's sink in the middle of the night if you're by the fridge. Which was kind of odd.

It had been an off day. No, it had been an off month. Or two months, or three… Moist wasn't sure when it all started. But he had noticed that Billy was acting a bit strange. Suddenly, laundry-day became very important. Billy would bug Moist to keep his clothes in the laundry basket, he would make sure to have his quarters rolled and ready to go on top of the clothes waiting for him, he would make sure the night before that he had enough detergent. It was really weird. Like he didn't want anything to go wrong on laundry-day. It was just laundry. But Moist did as he was told. He thought it could be that Billy spent so much time in the lab that it was his one day to go out and do something besides rob someone. Moist could understand that. Every Wednesday Billy would go out and clean their clothes.

Until it took up his Saturdays. Moist didn't mind at first, though he thought it was a bit odd that he would wash their things twice a week. They didn't have _that_ many clothes. And he was being weird about it too. Moist would watch from the window as Billy waited for the bus, watching his phone for the time, getting angry and yelling when it was a minute late. One time he got so fed up that he walked to the Laundromat. It was _really _weird. And Moist had to break him of it, because it was just getting awkward. Billy was yelling down the street at the bus that wasn't there. So he put it in Billy's mind that on Saturday, they had to pull some kind of heist. It took two weeks, but he convinced him to do so.

But Saturday came, and the plan was set. Moist and Dr. Horrible (Still Billy in Moist's mind at the time) snuck into a Wal-Mart. Why? Because they had an awful lot of money and Moist needed new high-tops. They sold shoes there. Why not? It didn't last long. Billy tossed the hair out of his eyes (it had gotten pretty long) and covered his blues with his goggles before punching a hole through the ceiling with his gravity gun. The manager tried to play hero, and was now bobbing along not far from the hole. Billy was trying to scare him. It worked. Backpacks full of money (one with a pair of shoes) and they were out the door. Only to run SMACK into Hammer. Billy stumbled and fell to the ground, adjusting his goggles to the top of his head to see what he had hit. He wished he had kept them on.

Hammer played dirty that time, grabbing the blond by the hair and flinging him around. The goggles were broken that day, again, and Moist went online to get a new pair on Monday. But the fight didn't stay in front of the Wal-Mart, it moved down the street, lasers flying as Billy tried to get Captain Hammer away from him. It didn't work. Grabbing the light hair again Hammer threw Moist's friend through a window. Dr. Horrible landed on the coin-operated washing machines hard, taking out a few of the coin-boxes and coming to a rest in the lap of a very pretty red-haired woman. Stumbling and stuttering an apology, Billy shut right up when Hammer's fingers tangled in his hair again and threw him back out of the building. Moist stole a van, popped the door open, and flung Billy inside to peel off just before Hammer came out. Then they ditched it a few streets down and made a break for it. Two thousand in cash, a pair of shoes, not bad.

Until Moist woke up in the middle of the night. He had to pee. Stupid really, but the excitement of the day and them both talking even as Moist dabbed ointment on the thick bruise on the side of Billy's face, they had plum forgotten everything else. Scratching his side as he shuffled from the bathroom to the kitchen (might as well grab something to eat) Moist paused when he noticed a small figure by the fridge. Eyebrow raised, Moist crossed and knelt down.

It was Billy. The man was sitting with his back against the cold white appliance, knees to his chest, arms around his legs. His chin was resting against his torso, and for all appearances looked like he was asleep. But in the streetlight coming through the window, Moist could see the silverblues unblinking over the pajama pants. After what seemed like an eternity, Moist realized that Billy didn't know he was there. He was lost in his own little world. Glancing up at the pans that hung from the ceiling, Moist quietly asked for help as to what to do. Shifting from his crouch he sat beside his friend, legs out in front of him, hands in his lap. Some moments later, (this was turning into a night made of moments) Moist put an arm around his buddy's shoulders and pulled him close. Resting against the damp shoulder, they shared a soggy silence as the world rushed by outside the window, the fridge kicking on, the dripping faucet on the other side of the wall… none of it mattered. Not right now.

"What's up Doc?" Moist's voice was low. Quiet, though he wasn't sure why. Seemed almost right, to keep the calm in the room.

"Life of crime." Billy whispered, nuzzling deeper into the soaked shirt of his friend. Later, that phrase would become a kind of signal that not everything was 100% on someone's side. But at this moment, it brought a small smile tugging at Moist. Life of crime, sure it was. Hiding here by the fridge.

"Common Doc. What's up?"

Another moment in the night of moments. This time it was a long silent one. Billy was clearly having a war with himself. Should he tell Moist? It was so clichéd, so over done. But it happened. Should he tell him?

Moist learned a lot about Billy that night. He learned that his mother hated men. He learned that Billy was a contract. She always wanted a girl. A girl? Uh-huh. But the scans, they would have known. She wasn't allowed to, it was their deal. How did you- you know. Find out? Yeah.

Turns out that Billy used to have long hair. Longer than it was now, which wasn't all that long considering Moist's bowl cut. But it had been very long, and it used to be braided. And his mother would go to the girl's section of a department store, and mutter something about "I should be here" before dragging her son to the boy's section. Little hints and tricks Billy spilled out that night, in long-winded sentences spewed out so quickly Moist had trouble following. Billy liked to talk fast. It was a little sad.

"I got into Stanford. Full scholarship, everything. _Stanford _Moist! And she just… tugged my hair. Grabbed it, and pulled." It wasn't a beauty contest. Her _son_ got into a geek school. She wanted a daughter that could win a beauty pageant. He hated having his hair pulled. So he cut it. They sat for some time, the sun was starting to peek through the window before either of them spoke or moved.

"He threw me into Penny. She's got to think I'm an idiot now."

"Penny?" Penny, the red-head whose lap Billy had landed in when Hammer had chucked him through a window. Moist learned of the laundry-day crush. Billy learned of Bait. The whole day was spent in the kitchen, in their pajamas, talking. Around lunch they got up and moved to the table; Billy had some trouble from being on the cold floor all curled up tight. And now he was wet too. He didn't say anything about it, but Moist apologized anyway. They learned a lot about each other that day. Fears, hopes, dreams. Crushes, being crushed, the whole nine yards. Billy had talked all morning. Moist all afternoon. Moist actually trimmed Billy's hair in the kitchen while he talked to the blond. It was a soul searching kind of day.

Moist will never forget the first time he found Billy by the fridge in the middle of the night. He half wishes that it would happen again.


	5. Deserve

Note: This is the last chapter. Not the last Dr. Horrible fic, no. But it is the last chapter of this one. It is sad, if you don't like sad endings, don't read this. Thank you for reading my fiction, I hope I kept the characters in character for you all! Good bye until my next fic. Should be up by Saturday. Lot of typos here, please forgive. I'll fix them as I re-read through the next few days. Unless you see a huge one, don't think too much of it.

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Moist remembers the last time he talked to Billy. Oh, sure, he _answered _Dr. Horrible every day. But he hadn't _talked_ to Billy in years. If it wasn't for the events transpiring right now, he would have thought that Billy had died that day in the homeless shelter with Penny. But he knew better now. His friend was alive… well, he had always been alive, but he thought he was dead… it was complicated.

Perhaps too complicated.

Moist never did understand how Billy and Dr. Horrible were two separate people. A few months before Penny hooked up with Hammer, Moist came home one day to find Billy typing hard on his computer. Giving himself a small nod the wet man went to his room to change out of his work clothes. Then he popped in the kitchen grabbing a drink and pulling a chair from the counter to the front living room he looked for a place to put it. Billy had long since stopped hiding the real lab. It had creeped so fully into the living room that the freezeray would sit next to the kitchen, the bookshelves had been sold to scrounge up some plastic casings and a new white board. And the price of an MRI when Billy wanted a map of Moist's head. The apartment was now more laboratory than a living space. But Moist had his room, that's all that mattered. Or, at that point, it did. They had grown apart. Not fully, they still talked and did things, they still mattered to each other. But they weren't like they had been. Moist would give anything now to have that back. To be so close to each other. But there was no going back now.

At the time, however, they would have a heart-to-heart chat once a month or so. Just something to catch up on what had been going on. Dragging the chair over to sit by the front door, Moist plopped into it and leaned his elbows on the back of it. Billy glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"You know I hate it when you sit like that in the chairs."

"Yeah, I know." Moist didn't care much. He had helped get the chairs. If he wanted to sit backwards in them, he'd sit backwards bygummit. Billy went back to typing, and Moist knew better than to interrupt. He didn't understand any of the math and science stuff, but last time he had pulled too much of Doc's attention from it he wound up making the stun-ray explode. That wasn't fun, having to rebuild that thing after pulling metal and glass shards out of their hands.

Soon enough, Billy stopped typing and leaned back in his chair, hand on chin, fingers tracing his lips, reading what he wrote. Billy had changed so much in the years they had lived together. The lines that had only started on his forehead had now made a nest for themselves there. His hair was a bit darker, mostly from being inside so much the sun hadn't bleached it.

"Who are you today?"

"What?" Billy stopped reading and looked to his roomie. "Who what?"

"Who are you today?"

I'm me, no you're not, yes I am, no you're not… Moist was never good with words. They went on like that for a little until Billy put his head in his hands, groaning of a headache.

"In the years I've known you, I found four of you."

"Four of me."

"Uh-huh."

"Explain?"

It was simple really. There were four Billy's. There was Billy number one. He was the one that Moist liked over all the others. He was the one that had answered the door, the one that had welcomed him into their home. Next came Dr. Horrible, who needed no introduction. He was mean, and hard, and smart, and evil. Then there was Billy number three. He was the one that was in front of him right now. He was the one that was kind and patient, but had the brains of Dr. Horrible. He wouldn't hurt anyone. Lastly there was Billy number four. He was the Dr. Horrible on a very very thin leash that Billy held. He was dangerous. Moist realized that the man he had met with the rent problem was this Billy, and not truly Dr. Horrible. Dr. Horrible was the one that wouldn't hesitate to kill. Ever. But he slipped from one to the other so easily…

"Four of me. Huh." Billy seemed fascinated by this. Like he had never known. Moist found it odd that someone so smart could have so many stupid moments. Not knowing about the other "yous" that you had, not knowing how to cook, not understanding how girls worked… though really he didn't know himself. It was just part of the magic that was Billy. How Moist missed that.

Just like he missed his last talk with Billy. It wasn't a talk. It, it was not even a chat. And the more that Moist thought of it the more he wished he had taken the time to make that a real talk. He had just stood there, opening (trying to anyway) a jar, trying to convince Billy that the ELE was a waste of time. How was he trying that? By suggesting ways to get into it. Killing a kid, smothering old people… things that he knew the League would ask Billy to do. And they were things he knew Billy wouldn't want to do. But that was the last talk he had ever had with Billy.

Because after that, he holed himself up in his lab. He crashed the ceremony for the homeless shelter. He had his heart broken by his nemesis…

And Billy died. He hadn't, he knew that now. But, he had though he had. Because after Penny died, there was no Billy. There was no Billy three or four. There was only Dr. Horrible. Because after Penny died, Dr. Horrible killed. Billy would never kill, he freaked out because a kid had an asthma attack. But Horrible killed. Over the last five years Dr. Horrible had killed over three hundred people. Included in that list, as of ten minutes ago, was Bad Horse. It was off to the evil glue factory for him now.

Moist stood at the door to the libratory of the ELE headquarters, and if it was any other time, he would have been amazed at what there was. It was clean, it was huge, everything had labels, it wasn't a jumbled mess like their apartment had been. But there were things there that drew Moist's eye. The giant chair in the corner, the one that Dr. Horrible still slept in… when he slept. And a blue lightning disk thing.

They were the only items from the old lab.

"I couldn't do it anymore." Moist turned, taking in the tiny figure in the huge chair. He was so used to the red smock, the black gloves, the goggles… seeing the brown shirt and the blue jeans was a shock. And what almost sent him into a heart attack was the sight of the blue eyes. It had been five years since Dr. Horrible had taken off the goggles. The ones that Billy rarely ever had down. This was Billy, not Dr. Horrible. Moist knew, deep down knew, that Dr. Horrible had died with Bad Horse. Hoisting himself up onto the huge upholstery, careful of his hurt friend, he thought of the leaky janitorial faucet as he pulled his friend to him, resting Billy's head against his damp chest. They sat quietly, knowing that it wouldn't last. There was a storm breaking, and soon they would drown. But right now, it was just them.

Moist held Billy with one arm, gently picking up one of the massacred wrists with his other.

"Oh Doc." He whispered, shaking his head.

I miss her Moist. I know Doc, I know. I… I couldn't do it anymore. It's alright. No, it's not, I shouldn't ha- stop it Doc. Stop? Yes, stop. I tried. I know Doc, I know.

The blue jeans were purple with blood, and Moist knew there was no way to stop it. Billy needed it. Billy had taken him in, given him a home, a job, a friend, the confidence to be a henchman, the chance to be with Bait. And he had given Billy the strength to come back to him.

"Get some sleep Doc." The blond was nodding off against him. Lips moved, but no sound came. "Huh?"

"Will you stay with me?" So tired, it broke Moist's heart.

"Yes, I will. And so will Penny."

"Penny?"

"Yes Doc, Penny will be there when you wake up."

"Oh good, I should go, go get… get sssom-"

Moist sat for a while longer, listening to the pounding on the door. Sighing a bit, he shifted Billy's arm from his soggy lap to the bloodied one. The he reached up and closed the silver blue eyes he had come to respect.

"Get some sleep Billy, you deserved it."

Moist will never forget the last time he talked to Billy. It was the conversation that had meant more to him than any other he had ever had.


End file.
